


Do Bad Well

by project_canary



Series: Take Me Home [4]
Category: Sideshow - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Western AU, a hint of Bedbuck, basically a red dead au, theyre all cowboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:26:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21820138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/project_canary/pseuds/project_canary
Summary: Never bet on a sure thing.
Series: Take Me Home [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572283
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Do Bad Well

**Author's Note:**

> The song for this piece is called Do Bad Well by KSHMR ( I have a thing for naming fics after songs, I KNOW )

The bell rang, and a bull exploded out of the gate, moving with speed and grace that Buck didn’t expect from an animal that large. The cowboy hung on as well as he could, quickly flying off, landing himself in the dirt, the bull still bucking. Criken touched Buck’s shoulder and they watched the man stand quickly, running as best he could to the fence and jumping, making it halfway up. The bull seemed to have now noticed its rider was missing and stopped in its tracks, exhaling sharply. The crowd began to yell and get more rambunctious, some egging on the bull, others cheering the cowboy on as he scrambled up the fence. The bull pawed at the ground before charging. The cowboy was barely able to swing his feet over before the bull’s horns slammed into the fence, shaking the whole arena. The bell dinged again and the crowd broke out in cheers of excitement. 

“Why are we even here again?” Buck turned to face Criken, who was still staring down at the arena as the rodeo clowns cleaned the sand for the next contestant. 

“A hunch,” Criken shrugged, readjusting the collar around his neck. Buck lowered his own hat, keeping his eyes forward but eyeing the silver star of a sheriff in her peripherals. And another. And another. A few too many for Buck’s liking. 

“We’re supposed to be putting the crew together,” Buck leaned on the rail as he sighed. 

“We are.” Criken turned around, taking a sip from his flask. Buck groaned, pushing himself up. 

“I’m going to look around then,” Buck didn’t give Criken room to negotiate, as he simply walked away before Crik could protest. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Criken called as Buck walked out of earshot. 

“You’re not my dad!” Buck shot back as he disappeared around a corner, running straight into someone else. 

“Hey,” He exclaimed but didn’t seem particularly disappointed about the encounter. Buck was immediately struck by the yellowness of his shirt, matching the straw yellow of his fluffy hair. The dark bandana tied loosely around his neck...

“Sorry, I..” Buck tried to focus but trailed off, suddenly distracted again by the sky blue color of the man’s eyes. They stared back, wide-eyed, and Buck felt like he might fall in if he kept gawking. The man seemed to know the effect he had and smirked, his teeth barely poking out from between his lips. 

“Cigarette?” He offered, and Buck opened his mouth to say he didn’t have any, but the man produced one from his pocket. 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Neither do I, but I like to offer,” He seemed to be hiding a smile between his words, and Buck wondered what it would take to get it out. 

“Oh.” 

“I’m Peter.” The yellow shirted man held out a gloved hand. 

“Buck.” He shook Peter’s hand, and Peter’s eyes glanced up at Buck’s hat. As he did, Buck could hear the announcer yell out that the next rider was up. 

“Nice one, where’d you get it?” Buck’s mind raced to the bank robbery where Buck shot the wealthy train owner in the back before stealing his white cowboy hat. 

“Uh, a friend,” Buck lied through his teeth, but Peter didn’t seem to notice. He kept his eyes on it however as he spoke again. 

“Can I have it?” 

“What?” Buck asked, because he could not believe this total stranger would just- 

Peter grabbed the back of Buck’s neck, closing the distance between them quickly as he leaned in, kissing Buck squarely on the mouth. Buck felt tongue and was about to break up the sudden make-out when Peter did it himself, stepping backwards and walking off, disappearing around the next corner. Buck was so surprised that it took him a few moments to realize he was missing his hat. 

Great. 

The announcer called for the next rider again and Buck realized it would be futile to go after Peter now, so instead made his way back to Criken, who turned to face Buck as he approached the rail. 

“What happened to your hat?” Criken asked, a tone of concern threaded into his voice. 

“Don’t even ask.” 

“I won’t,” Criken held up his hands in innocence. 

“When are we getting out of here anyway?” Buck didn’t hide the annoyance in his voice, and Criken nudged his shoulder. 

“Hopefully, 7 seconds.” 

“What?” The bell rang, and three things happened very fast for Buck.

The first thing was the he realized that Criken had pulled up his bandana and pulled off his priest collar, which he only did when they did a job. 

The second thing he noticed was that everyone around them seemed to have slips of paper in their hands, anxiously awaiting the next bull rider. They were betting slips. 

The third thing Buck realized was that he knew that rider. The bull erupted out of the gate again and Buck swore out loud. This bull was even bigger than the last, white and cream colored, with huge horns. And of course. Riding this bull was Peter. Wearing Buck’s hat. The seconds seemed to stretch as Peter rode the bull, his body moving with the animal. The bull bucked high, and Peter grabbed the edge of his hat, almost saluting over at Buck. 

And just like that, it was over, the bull ejecting Peter from his back. He landed gracefully on his feet, bowing to the audience before vaulting over the rail. The announcer yelled out the time. 

“And a solid 7 seconds from P. P. Peter!” The whole arena began to yell in protest. Apparently they had bet for Peter to make it. Criken pocketed his slip, grabbing Buck’s arm as they walked to where the announcer was sitting. Criken pulled his slip out as they made it to the table, presenting it to the well dressed man at the table. 

“Well, it seems you made a lucky bet today sir,” The man opened the cash box, beginning to count out Criken’s earnings. 

“How about we call this, an all-in?” A gun cocked, and Criken sighed when he saw who was on the other side of it, holding a bag in his other hand. 

“No, we’re not doing it this way, this is why we rigged the ride,” Criken growled at Peter, who had pulled his bandana over his mouth. 

“You fixed the bull ride?” The announcer repeated a little too loudly for Criken’s tastes. Criken groaned. 

“Fine. Buck, grab the horses.” He drew his own gun, pointing it at the announcer. “Money, bag, now.” The announcer complied. 

Buck returned, and the announcer was throwing the bag back to Criken, who tied it shut before turning to Peter. 

“What do we do with-” And was interrupted by a gunshot. “Wonderful,” Criken breathed, feeling fresh blood splash across his face. 

“What else was I supposed to do?” Peter asked, laughing as he swung up onto Buck’s horse. 

“Uh, I don’t know Bed, a million other things,” Criken jumped on his own horse, pulling the reins to keep her steady. 

“That’s my horse,” Buck complained, and Bed rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Get up here then.” Peter or Bed, whatever his name was, offered his hand. “Or stay here and deal with the murder and robbery you committed.” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Buck blurted out, shuffling uncomfortably in his poncho. 

“And that defense will hold up in court. Get on the horse.” Buck muttered a few choice words before taking the offered hand and sliding onto the saddle, grabbing onto BedPeter’s waist. 

“Buck, meet Bed,” Criken yelled over the wind as they galloped through the desert. He laughed before continuing. “But judging from the hat exchange, I’m guessing you two already met!” 

“He stole it!” Buck accused, not wanting to admit how well it matched Bed’s white cowboy boots. 

“It was mine first!” Bed called back. “It was stolen from me! Thanks for finding it!” Buck opened his mouth expecting to defend himself again and stopped. 

“Oh.” He blinked a few times. “You’re welcome.” Buck leaned forward, resting his head against the soft of Bed’s shirt, closing his eyes. Criken really had the strangest friends. 


End file.
